


You Told Me You'd Hold Me

by viixiie



Category: Pitch Perfect 2 - Fandom, Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: F/F, becommissar, vice quadrant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 00:24:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4645518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viixiie/pseuds/viixiie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You told me<br/>You’d hold me<br/>Hold me til the mornin’ light</p><p>You craved me<br/>You saved me<br/>Saved me from my own foolish blight</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Saved Me From My Own Foolish Blight

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of an au within a headcanon- as if Beca didn't follow my headcanon of reconciling with Luisa after realizing they were childhood friends, and instead just sort of awkwardly avoided her.  
> Sorry. But I'm actually not.
> 
> For SPG fans, WHO'S HYPE FOR VICE QUADRANT?????? IIIIIIIIIII AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMM  
> For non-SPG fans, w H Y????

Luisa Raske was not a sore loser. Nor was she one to drop her guard or refuse to admit defeat.

No, she truly believed she had egged on those girls, and it had paid off. She was honestly proud of what they had accomplished, against all odds. She'd return to Worlds with her team again, probably face the Bellas again. The best would win. That was competition.

The upset haze that fell over her now was familiar but not missed. Das Sound Machine had not lost in a long while, but she didn't think that was the entire problem. 

No, her problem was that tiny, horribly wonderful Bella, appearing from thin air at her door their first day in Copenhagen to return a shirt she'd forgotten she'd ever owned, traded to her for her email address in Beca's freshman year and Luisa's junior. Her problem was the resurfaced memory of the schnecke she thought had left her, the one she'd repressed for so long. The one who had turned a riveting, family-friendly music camp into nights of sneaking off to play, to bake, to ride.. To explore, in many more ways than one.

Yes, Beca Mitchell had been her first. Everything. And because of her, or rather her absence, Luisa had allowed herself to fall into very, very bad hands. Those of a certain Jorn Wahner, to be specific. He didn't particularly like that she was willing to stand up to him if he went for Beca, but as soon as the American was gone he noticed her falter in compassion. He took it in his claws and ran with it, their only "common interest" being his lust for her, and her desire in general. He was the leader, then, of DSM, and worked her into his group enough to push her real friends away.

She only ever confided in Emmerich, that Jorn would either control her completely and use her as he felt he had the right, or demand she become the Kommissar for him, screaming and degrading her if she refused. Only when Emmerich spread word quietly among DSM was Jorn forced out, and Luisa was nominated to lead. She never told Pieter. She knew Jorn would wind up dead if she had. 

But she spent all her days pining, wishing it were really anyone else, but Beca in particular. The gentle and loving touches she often disregarded in those days in favor of the rougher and more aggressive moves were suddenly the memories that kept her sane, and probably alive. She became reclusive, shy, and introverted, and when she was finally able to return to Kommissar, she did so in full force. Vulnerability was a thing of the past, to the public, to DSM, to Pieter, and especially to herself. She never really forgot Beca, but she pushed her out.

She had expected to be able to feel normal again when they reunited.

Instead, Pieter grabs her arm seconds before she is about to step out into traffic, because she is too swallowed in her own thoughts to hear the blaring horn of a sleek sportscar as it speeds towards her. 

The fear that laces her heart too late is dull, hardly enough to be noticed, though her eyes grow massive on instinct. They meet Pieter's, and his are sorrowful- frightened, but understanding. He will share her hurt but not press for discussion, a trait she had always been more than thankful for in him.

The walk from the venue to their hotel is too long for one to typically take at almost midnight, especially after a strenuous performance, but the cold air of the Copenhagen night is familiar and welcome. And, if she isn't lying to herself, it reminds the Aryan of similar walks back in Germany, with now-unfamiliar company. It is then she realizes she might hate herself, and begins to wonder why.

To most, the warmth behind the doors of the Bella Sky Comwell would be welcoming, but to Luisa it is vaguely suffocating and heavy. Regardless, she shivers at the contrast and makes haste to the elevator.

Her room is just as it was left, plain and slightly unkempt, and she thanks Pieter for his help before sending him off to his own room. It was Das Sound Machine tradition for the leader to room alone.

The blonde is quick to shed her ensemble, tossing it all aside far more carelessly than she would likely admit, and she chooses to wash away her weakness with a cold shower.

It is not as effective as she would like.

"Idiot, idiot, idiot," she chants to herself, her arms crossing over her stomach to dig her own nails into her hips like claws. As if her best solution is to simply tear herself apart. The image is oddly satisfying, and the realization of this gives her shivers.

"You are being weak," she hisses to herself. "You are letting her cripple you. You are becoming what he wanted." And a second later- "You are not the Luisa she loved anymore."

She isn't sure which is more painful.

It's not like Beca confessed unrelenting hatred for her. The loss of contact turned out to be a huge misunderstanding, in fact. But knowing that it will always be like this, this game of brief meetings, confidence displays, playful bullying, competition, and then miles and miles of distance once again, it struck a chord deep in the Kommissar. She can't just call Beca's father again, ask for her to stay at her home. Go spend the summer in Atlanta. Now, they have responsibilities. 

The most painful of all was that, in all of this, Beca was choosing to drop her gaze, to avoid her, create distance. She didn't try to cherish their time.

"She has moved on," Luisa whispers to herself, the anger and conviction melting into quiet hurt. She was too tired for anger. Now the old words rushed back. Old promises shared, to never forget, never let go, to always be there. 

"You said you'd hold me," she says almost inaudibly into the dark of her room as she sinks into her bed, her voice catching in the most pathetic of ways. She tries telling herself to pull herself together, to stop being so useless, so weak over her first love. "Why have you abandoned me?"

She does not acknowledge that her words, though only for her ears, are in English rather than German, and she only notices the tears slowly rolling down her cheeks when her pillow becomes wet with them and she is forced to roll away in doscomfort.


	2. Now That You're Away

Luisa is a mess. Her hair is everywhere, the last bits of makeup she was too careless to totally wipe away the night prior now smudged over her cheekbones. She sits up, her body aching, and picks up her phone.

A single "get well, sister" awaited her in familiar German, sent from Pieter. Her smile feels forced.

Her feet carry her slowly to the bathroom, where she works halfheartedly to appear human before exiting to her living room. What once was a run to the kitchen for breakfast has slowly become a meandering to sit on the couch, if only to say she had escaped bed. She has not seen Pieter in days, as he's been off on a road trip with Emmerich, Ari, and Astrid.

Which left really no one who was close enough to Luisa to feel a need to come check on her, or who finds it appropriate to invite her out. This is fine. Well, she knows it isn't. She knows she's being affected too much, but her motivation is gone. 

Her phone buzzes. She'd never responded to Pieter, and no one else generally texts her. Curious, she sits up, glancing at the ID. The number isn't familiar at all, and the message is simply "I'm sorry."

**Was?**

_**I'm sorry. For running.** _

**I am not aware of who this is.**

_**You left me your number a week ago, Luisa.** _

A week ago. That was..

Her body tenses. Just as the worst had passed.

**I did not. It must have been that idiot. He is lucky he is not here. What do you want?**

A hesitation. Luisa finds herself selfishly hoping her abruptness had stung, if only a little.

**_To apologize. I found out who you were, and everything came back, and... And I panicked. I don't do well with emotions anymore. And my boyfriend was there, and I didn't know what to do. I thought maybe just keeping my distance would make it easier, but it's.. It's been hell._ **

**I am sure your boyfriend is more than capable of lifting your spirits, Beca.**

_**Oh.. Well, he's not exactly my boyfriend anymore. I told him what was wrong and he decided it was best to break it off.** _

**So I am your next resort? You could not speak to me, about anything, not even as an old friend, and now that you are alone, across the world, you decide it is a good time to talk?**

_**I didn't mean it like that!** _

**I do not care. Ja? You made your position perfectly clear. And you have hurt me. We have been gone from Copenhagen for two weeks.**

_**Let me call you.** _

The message catches her by surprise. She weighs her options quickly- she could end the conversation here, for good, and push herself even harder to just drop it and move on, or she could agree. She isn't sure what hearing Beca's voice would do, or trigger. The thought of agreeing sends a spark of anxiety up her spine, but against her better judgement she nods, and then sends her agreement as a text. Her phone rings in an instant.

"Beca."

"Luisa, thank you, God," Beca rushes out, surprisingly breathless. The breath she pulls in after she speaks sounds ragged. Luisa is all too familiar with the sound, and cannot keep the soft worry from her voice as she asks if the tiny brunette had been crying.

"I... Yeah, for the better part of the time I've been home, to be totally honest." She pauses, and when it becomes apparent that Luisa isn't responding, she lets out a breath. "Look, I fucked up. A lot. I don't do well with talking about my feelings, and everyone here would jump on the chance to second that, but... I've really missed you, and I-"

"Delete my number."

"I- what?"

Luisa brushes silent tears from her cheeks, her brow furrowing into a frown that is more forced than she will admit. "Delete my number. It does not matter. We had a chance to speak again, to be even friends, and it is gone now. We are adults. We are not who we were as children. It is not my fault you and your boyfriend did not work out. I have a team to run. I will not exert myself over a long-distance childhood crush." Her body trembles with the effort of keeping her voice strong, but it breaks slightly at 'crush', as if refusing to lie, to undermine what they had so severely.

"Luisa, please, just-" Beca's voice is lost as Luisa hangs up. She doesn't waste time with a goodbye, because Germany does not have one. She only has 'until we meet again', and that is a promise she can't bring herself to consider.

She doesn't throw her phone against the wall until a plain "Ich liebe dich" flashes on her screen from the same number.

* * *

 

Das Sound Machine is hard at work when everyone returns from their breaks. Ari and Pieter think they are inconspicuous, slowly asking Luisa out more often than usual. As if she doesn't realize they're worried. Were she some kind of young adult literature protagonist, she would have demanded they let her take care of herself. But she isn't. She is a real human, and after so many days left to wallow in her thoughts and grow gaunt, she wakes her mind up a bit and welcomes the brief but pleasant trips for ice cream or hikes on the sunnier days. The warm familiarity of just going out with her closest friends was entirely what she needed.

The conversation with Beca still lingers. Three days ago, but fresh in her mind when it grows silent in the house or she tries to sleep. The pain isn't as strong, and she's getting better at controlling her emotions. 

"Kommissar," Ari calls, pulling her from her thoughts as she's looking over the videos from that day's rehearsal to see any choreography flaws she may have missed in-person."

"Sorry, hey," Luisa replies distantly, shaking her head. It's a mix of motion and music and white noise at this point.

"We've gotten a call from a Mr. Adrian Vann, a director from our camp. He's asking us to come perform on the grounds, bring in some charity." She seems worried, and in an instant Luisa's laptop is slammed shut.

"Charity? Why?" she demands, the guttural nature of her native tongue making her seem even more intense than she was.

"They're pretty bad off right now, K. They couldn't think of another way to bring in money, they were planning a show in a few weeks to raise money. I figured you'd want to-"

"Of course. DSM!"

"JA!" The reply echoes in the room, and she feels a second of pride at the willingness and sync of her team, at how well they've come together, before she raises her chin to address them.

"The camp that brought so many of us together is at risk of closing. We have three weeks' time to be ready to bring in the money for Vann, or we lose it." Her team's quick, determined agreement makes her heart swell with pride as she turns her focus back to Ari.

"Call Vann back, and then be ready to assist me. We have a show to prepare."


	3. Lonely Lady Only

Three weeks rushes by and Das Sound Machine is prepared. Luisa knows they are, and yet she's anxious, pacing like a caged tiger. Had she a tail, it would be lashing, but DSM knew better than to call her a cat as they once had.

Instead, she feels gentle hands on her shoulders, trying to rub out the tension in them. She can sense Pieter's worry, and appreciates his silence on it. She only gives him a moment to try to comfort her, though, before she's stepping out of his touch and continuing on with getting ready. 

_They won't see your puffy eyes under your makeup._

_They won't see your tangled hair in your bun._

_You've come so far._

_They've all forgotten Beca._

_It's your turn._

_Think like your father. Just let go. Your mother. Focus on your team. Don't cry. Don't think._

She sucks in a breath and blinks, shifting her expression from anxious to almost deadly. She was not Luisa. She was the Kommissar. Her eyes meet Pieter's in the reflection of the mirror and she sees him square his shoulders and set his jaw, sharing a nod with her. They were ready.

 

DSM's performance of Immortals that melted into King of the World- censored of course- has the crowd, though smaller than Luisa had hoped, on their feet and screaming. There are other acts, mostly old campgoers like most of DSM, waiting to perform as well, and as they leave the stage, Luisa lets herself feel proud for how rarely she had thought of her and Beca's final performance at the camp, and how few lines of White Nights had made it into her head thus far.

A few people compliment their show, and some even request autographs, and then Luisa is given permission to sit in one of the old cabins until the end of the event. She ends up winding along one of the old deertrails she had always used to sneak around or leave camp at night, leading her to the first cabin she'd ever stayed in- thankfully, one of the furthest from the lakeside one she'd shared with Beca.

She looks over the two empty bunks, the clear windows, and suddenly is flooded with memories of Beca. Coming to a cabin, regardless of which it was, had been a mistake.

The desire to simply flee to their old home, a twenty minute walk away, is strong, and Luisa has to leave the cabin and walk around the lake to busy her mind.

 

The barbeque later is great, and Luisa finds herself legitimately happy, reconnecting with some old friends, reminiscing in the mess hall. Her and Ari are even eble to get the others into the dance they'd made up Luisa's second year, INNA's Good Time blasting through the building just as beautifully as she remembers. She is letting go- slowly, and painfully, but the little moments of positivity are making their mark. 

That is, until DSM is preparing to leave, and she sees the familiar face of Adrian, cresftallen atop hunched shoulders. She knows they have failed. If she's honest, she knew it the moment they stood before the crowd and it was so small, so quiet; it was no wonder they hadn't brought in enough money for the camp. Her heart aches as they pass her old director and he avoids her gaze and the hurt that resides there, and she turns her eyes to the camp gate as she steps through it once more, this time not to run to her home, or with phone numbers or emails or keepsakes from new friends and the promise of another year, but with a sense of finality and loss. She will never return.

 

* * *

 

Luisa is called at or cornered a total of seven times by Jorn in the next three years before she applies and is accepted to a school in America to become a music instructor. Possibly not her greatest choice, but American schools offer what she wants and are a sure safety fromher America-hating abuser.

She is friends with classmate Angel McCarr for nearly two years, roommates for one, before learning that she was a Bella before she had transferred schools.

It's three before several Bellas come to their apartment to take Angel for a "newly established bi-monthly roadtrip", and only Luisa's "lucky" timing with a shower allows her to see only the side of Beca's grinning face as her arm wraps across Angel's shoulders and the door closes behind them.

She is in the school for five years before taking on a job at a high school as a respected music teacher.

She has had several short relationships, all quick-fading and, quite honestly, suffocating in a way she had never expected.

Her communications with Das Sound Machine waver, then fall away almost entirely, with the exception of Pieter, Emmerich, and Ari, on somewhat rare occasions. There are a few new people she talks to in America, but it often comes back into her mind how she has never really returned to her old, sociable self after Worlds. Angel assures her it happens to the best, as she straightens the engagement ring she received the day before.

She's stopped being so sullen; thoughts of Beca are hardly coming up now but the drop in personality has remained. Angel is a godsend, puns aside, as she is exuberant and sociable as a puppy and constantly drags Luisa to meet her friends or go to events. By roughly thirty-one, Luisa is starting to be the humorous, quick-witted Aryan of old. It is a freeing and wonderful feeling.

It's tears on Angel's face as she stands at Luisa's doorway at 4:13AM, a newspaper article thrust in Luisa's face as it is clenched in one of the girl's hands while a yellow scarf is crumpled in the other, that absolutely ruins her- four girls were, according to their families, taking another road trip and on their way into town to get the last friend of the group Angel Mae McCarr, when a semi skidded out of control and tipped over onto their car.

Luisa recognizes the single survivor, Chloe, from their competition. A Bella. Angel's crying makes sense; Luisa knows from talking to her that she is good friends with several of the older Bellas along with her own 'generation', but still, she is afraid to read on.

Of the other three, one is hospitalized with severe injuries, Liza Arin Foxx, while the other two were killed on impact: Jetta Alexis Martin, and the driver, Beca Elizabeth Mitchell.

 

* * *

 

Luisa does her best to accept it, but after a month of returned depression and panic attacks that hardly allow her to be on the road, reliving a fiction of the event as if it were her own death, Chloe's appearance in their apartment one morning to update Angel on Liza is what breaks her resolve. She is frozen in the doorway, the familiar face in her own home sending pain down her spine, and before she is aware off their actions the two Bellas have her seated and wrapped in their arms.

When her panic is gone and Chloe has left for her home, Luisa sits down at a table. She writes a letter of resignation to the school, and in just over two weeks' time she is back in Germany, this time living with Ari as Pieter had gotten engaged in the last seven years, and Ari is more than happy to be roommates with her old friend and Kommissar again.

 

Luisa is not a particularly religious individual, but she is spiritual. So when she prays, every night, for the next four years of her life, it is not to any God, but to Beca. To any spirit who may pass her and relay to her. 

The German has felt spirits before, strange energies and presences that have no place or explanation in a room. She knows the chill, or the brush on her skin, or an unexplained feeling of not being truly alone when she knows she is. It had always freaked her out, but now she craves it, wants to know that at least Beca is aware she is sorry.

It never comes.


End file.
